


Six

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Demons, Gen, Isolation, Starvation, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders was in solitary when Uldred took control of the Circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six

**Day 1**

“Solitary again? Is that the best you can come up with? It didn’t break me the first time, it’s not going to break me now!” Anders screamed.

No one replied.

Anders climbed onto his stomach, peeking beneath the crack under the door. He could see the steel on the Templar’s boots glinting in the candlelight as he stood ever vigilant. Anders knew he heard every word. Bastard.

It had only been one day and he was already restless. He started to pace, going round and round in the small, dark cell that he had been shut in. One, two, three, four, five, six. Turn. One, two, three, four, five, six. Hardly enough room to lie down. Who did they build this room for? Dwarf mages? Anders chuckled to himself at that.

Anders reached into the bucket that sat beside his bed, filled his palms with cool water and splashed it across his forehead and neck. He sighed, took deep breaths, and willed the wild beating of his heart to still. He could do this. He survived a year in solitary, he can do it again. He wasn’t going to break.

He needed to sleep. Sleep will help pass the time, take away the restlessness and his worried thoughts. Anders stretched out along the cot, closed his eyes, and forced himself to sleep.

**Day 2**

Anders did not know what time it was when he awoke. There was no window, nothing to mark the passage of time. His stomach growled; it must be breakfast time. Or perhaps supper. It was so dark in his cell. The entire world could be on fire and he’d never know it. Anders reached out with the tip of his finger and lit the single, solitary candle they had given him. Frightening shadows leapt across the walls as the room was filled with a dull light.

His stomach growled again. Anders absently rubbed it as he got down to peek beneath the door. No boots. The Templar will return soon with his meal in hand. Anders sat up and sighed. He wished he’d hurry.

Hours passed. Or maybe it was minutes? It was so hard to tell. Already the darkness was beginning to play tricks with his mind. Where was the Templar? Why wasn’t he back yet? Anders got back down on his stomach and looked. Nothing. He got up. One, two, three, four, five, six. Turn. One, two, three, four, five, six. Look. Nothing. One, two, three, four, five, six. Turn. One, two, three, four, five, six. Look. Nothing.

He was starting to feel slightly dizzy. His stomach had stopped rumbling a long time ago. Or perhaps it was only an hour ago. Who could tell in this cell? He still had some leftover bread from yesterday. It was hard and stale and he had planned to chuck it at the Templar’s helmet when he came in with his meal, but now…

Anders reached for it. It was already half-way to his mouth when he paused, a cold sweat breaking across his back as he recalled his words. _Solitary again? Is that the best you can come up with?_

What if they planned to starve him as punishment?

Anders broke off a small corner of the roll of bread and shoved it into his mouth, wrapping the rest in a scarf to save for later. He could survive hunger too. He wasn’t going to break. He’ll go to sleep. He wouldn’t have to think about it if he went to sleep. He wouldn’t have to think about anything. Anders laid down, curling into himself.

**Day 3**

Anders sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Something had woken him. He’d slept for… how long? It didn’t matter. Time didn’t matter here. He crawled down onto his stomach and looked out. Nothing. The Templar was still gone. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t coming back.

He launched himself at the door, yanking on the doorknob but it wouldn’t budge. He pressed a burning palm against the wood, watched how the flames licked against the door before evaporating. Magic proof.

But wait, what was that sound? Anders pressed his ear against the door and listened. It was muffled, but clearly a woman’s voice. She was screaming something.

Dozens of voices rose with hers. All screaming. All crying.

His heart leapt into his throat as he backed away from the door.

**Day 4**

Pain ripped through his stomach. He was so hungry. There was no more bread left, nothing to eat at all and his bucket of water was running dangerously low. The screaming had stopped, but Anders would have preferred it to continue. There was nothing left now except silence.

Anders groaned into his cot, his long, gangly arms wrapped around his torso, hugging, as though that would drive away the hunger.

_Scrape, scrape, scrape_

The sound seemed like an explosion after so long in silence. There was something out there, scratching against the stone floor. Anders reluctantly disentangled himself and crawled on his stomach towards the sliver of light beneath the door.

Rotten, mottled flesh. Sharp claws digging furrows into the stone. Anders clasped his hand against his mouth to keep any noise from escaping. Demon.

He moved back to his cot as quietly as he could. Blew out the candle - now nothing more than a tiny stub - and threw his blanket across his chamberpot in hopes of masking the smell. A shadow passed over his door; it filled up the entire crack, blocking any light from shining through and plunging him into complete darkness.

The handle squeaked. Nothing. The demon jiggled it more sharply. Then the entire door rattled so hard and loud that Anders was sure it would fall in and crush him, but it held firm. Magic proof.

Eventually the shadow passed. The demon was gone.

At least Anders knew now. The Templars weren’t starving him purpose. They were dead. Maker, he’d never thought the day would come when he actually wished for Templars to come and rescue him.

But now… now there really was no hope. He should just get it over with. Kill himself now. It would be better than starving to death or have a demon take over his body. What happened to the soul of a mage who was possessed? Did they go to the Void or to the Maker’s side? He knew what the Chantry said about suicide. He would be cast down with the sinners, but surely… surely the Maker understood. If it was a choice between a quick death or starvation and possession, then what choice did he have? He could make a noose from his blanket, or just brain himself on the stone wall.

Anders laid back down. He couldn’t think about it now. He would think of it later, after he gotten some sleep.

**Day 5**

Anders grinned and laughed along as a girl pulled him into a dance. He hadn’t seen a party this big since the Cumberland enchanters came to Ferelden for a visit. Even the Templars seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some were lightly clapping along to the music, a few had managed to snitch some wine from the buffet table and were looking quite pink under their helms. The waltz came to an end and the musicians were just warming up for a reel. The girl tugged on his sleeves, but Anders laughed and apologized. He was exhausted. And hungry.

An entire feast had been laid out for the occasion. There was glazed boar heads in pastry castles decorated with gold, a red jelly with white lions carved into it, roasted peacock served in its plumage, a dish of brawn served in a spiced wine pottage, larded capons, jellied eggs, small cheesecakes, and an elaborate sugar confection in the shape of the Maker’s Bride.

The First Enchanter was there, laughing in that dry, croaking voice of his. “We’ll have food enough for days. Well? Don’t be shy. Grab a plate.”

Anders wasted no time, grabbing anything and everything within reach. All the while Irving watched him, like a cat in front of a mousehole. Something was niggling at the back of his brain, something he needed to remember. But what was it? Anders paused and set his plate down on the table, trying to think. It was so difficult. And he was so hungry.

“What’s the matter, child? Try the custard, it is simply divine.”

“No thank you,” Anders muttered. What was it that he needed to remember? Something important.

Irving would not be deterred. “How about some cod? A leg of mutton? A glass of mulled wine?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Of course you’re hungry, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Cold dread shot through him. This wasn’t real. He was in the Fade. His body was still lying on the cot, sleeping, dreaming. He looked down at his plate, but all he could see was rotten meat and maggots. The demon was no longer wearing the First Enchanter’s kindly visage, but his own true, horrifying face. _Take nothing that they offer you._

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” The demon asked. “If you let me inside, you’ll never be hungry again. You will always be full.”

“No. I’m leaving.”

The demon paused, considering, but eventually it nodded. “As you wish.”

Anders awoke, shaking in the stifled heat of the room.

**Day 6**

So this is what it felt like to die. Anders thought it would hurt more, but in truth… he couldn’t feel anything at all. He floated somewhere, inches above his cot, drifting serenely as though carried by the wind. It was dark. Would the Void be dark as well?

Bright light filled his vision, too bright and hot and burning. Anders squeezed his eyes shut against it. This must be it. His body must have finally given out. But then what was that sound?

Boots. On hard stone. One, two, three, four, five, six. Stop, right in front of his cot.

He felt a warm hand press against his forehead. “Poor lad.” He knew that voice. It sounded like Greagoir, but it couldn’t be. It was too sad, too compassionate. He had only ever known the Knight-Commander to be hard and impersonal, angry where Anders was concerned. “Get him to the infirmary with the others.”

“What if he’s possessed?”

“What would a demon do with a dried up husk of a body like that? If Anders died, so would the demon, and it’s obvious the door hasn’t been compromised in any way. Now go. Tell Cookie to make a simple broth for him. Nothing too rich. Go slow, or he might vomit it back up again.”

“Yes, ser.”

Hands lifted him and he was moving through the light. It was too much, after being so long in the dark. He fell asleep.


End file.
